The Storm That Is Sterling

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  His brow arched. “And now?”

  She set the wine on the side of the tub. “What do I tell her now? I have no idea.”

  “You mean you have an excuse to avoid that conversation, and you’re taking it.”

  She hugged her knees tighter and rested her chin on top of them. “Now who’s digging around in whose head?”

  “I don’t have to dig around in your head to know that,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You should call her.”

  “And say what?” she asked. “Hey Mom, I was dying of cancer, but good news, now that I’m drinking alien DNA, I might live to become an evil monster like the source of that DNA. Thought I might say hi before that happened.”

  “You’re not—”

  She raised a dripping wet hand stop sign fashion. “Instead of you telling me what I want to hear—Becca, you’re not going to die, or Becca, you’re not going to turn into a monster—why don’t you stop teasing me with the prospect of food. Let me get out of here, and let’s heat up that Chinese food.”

  He pushed off the seat and squatted down in front of her. “Becca,” he said roughly. “Turn around, and let me see your neck.”

  She sucked in a breath, knowing what he was looking for—the Lifebond mark that could save her life. A mixture of hope and dread filled her. She wanted life, but she didn’t want pity or obligation from him.

  “Don’t do this,” she said. “The odds are next to zero.” Yet she remembered the tingling on her neck, and there was no denying the passion between them was nothing she’d felt with any other man.

  “We have to know,” he said, his jaw set in determination.

  She’d learned a few details in Zodius City about Lifebonding. “The mark appears during sex, and the female feels pain. No pain. No mark.”

  He fixed her in a steely stare. “Turn around.”

  With a chill inside her as cold as that first drop of ICE hitting her throat every day, she did as he bid. Turned around and lifted her hair with her free hand. Seconds ticked by before he kissed her neck, intimate, a caress. Goose bumps slid down her back, warmth replacing the chill. Was it possible there really was a mark? Could it be? Hiding the anxiety darting through her, Becca slowly turned around, butterflies attacking her stomach.

  Tenderness rushed over his face as he reached out and ran his knuckles down her cheek, tenderness etched with sadness. “I’m insanely, wildly crazy about you.”

  The butterflies turned to a hard knot. “There’s no mark,” she said, her throat constricting with the words. The tingling she’d felt had been nothing.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Becca—”

  “Don’t,” she said, knowing he was about to apologize because he couldn’t save her life. Exactly everything she didn’t want to hear from him. Besides she wasn’t thinking about some miracle cure. She was thinking about not being Sterling’s Lifebond, about how some other woman was out there, some woman who belonged to him, and him to her.

  Uncertainly swirled in his gaze, and he looked as if he might say more. Finally, he simply offered, “I’ll go heat up the food while you get dressed.”

  He didn’t give her time to respond, not that she was sure she could have found her voice for the emotion lodged in her throat anyway. He was on his feet and gone in an instant.

  She sat there a few seconds, the water chilling, and part of her with it. She wasn’t Sterling’s Lifebond, but she was falling for him. She cared about him, exactly why it wasn’t fair to get involved with him, to burden someone with the pain of loss. It was a cross one should bear on one’s own. To do otherwise was selfish.

  Becca stepped out of the tub and grabbed the fluffy, white towel hanging on the rack and wrapped it around herself. Suddenly, that tingling sensation on her neck started again.

  An instant later, Sterling appeared in the doorway, and when he did the sensation faded, almost as if it were warning her of his presence. She shook herself mentally and tried to act unaffected. But hadn’t she heard Lifebonds had some sort of sensory ability to know when the other was near?

  Surprising her, Sterling held her Burberry travel bag, the one her father had given her as a college graduation gift. “This is the bag Cassandra picked up for you. I thought you might want it.” He winked and headed off again, and she knew he was trying to keep things light.

  Becca would have delighted at having her bag, if not for the funny feeling at the back of her neck. She bit her lip and shut the door, then bent down and looked inside the bag, finding her makeup pouch.

  She pulled out a handheld compact, turned to the mirror, and held up her hair. She gaped at what she saw—two faint circles, one inside the other, a good three inches wide at any angle. A tattoo that wasn’t a tattoo had appeared out of nowhere clearly after Sterling had checked.

  Becca turned to the sink and pressed her hands to the counter, her heart pounding like a drum, echoing in her ears. It couldn’t be. “Oh God,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut. When the lamp had shattered during orgasm—she’d blacked out in that moment of both pain and pleasure that must have been the Lifebonding process.

  A mixture of elation and guilt filled her. With a blood exchange, Sterling could save her life. Her stomach twisted in knots, and emotion balled in her chest. If she died, he died. God, please let that be only if they did the blood exchange. What if the ICE somehow did something to her, something that would hurt him? He wouldn’t consider the possibility and let her run tests. He’d feel obligated to save her. He’d insist. And sure, Sterling wanted her. He desired her, but bound for life was a big deal. It was like marriage without a divorce court.

  She pressed her hand to her stomach, willing it to calm, and made a decision. She wasn’t going to tell him about the Lifebonding mark.

  As long as she and Sterling avoided a blood exchange, there was no reason he had to know about the mark on her neck. So long as he never knew, there would be no guilt or obligation. This was a secret she planned to take to her deathbed—alone.

  Chapter 23

  Hours after their many lovemaking sessions, Becca lay curled by Sterling’s side, sleeping peacefully. Sterling, on the other hand, was wide awake, computer in his lap, back against the headboard of his bed.

  He focused his tech skills on how and where to find the ICE warehouse. He punched keys and tried to hack Club Nebula to track down some sort of database of ICE users, any information that might lead to the main distribution source.

  He punched a few more keys and cursed. Nebula’s computer system was down. Sterling ran his hand over his face and tried to think, his gaze landing again on Becca, her silky dark hair spread across the black comforter as if it were a part of the blanket, her body pressed to his side as if she were trying to melt into him.

  Holy shit, he was dying here over this woman. Not only had he talked to her about his grandmother, he’d wanted her in his bed. Those two things were huge anomalies. He didn’t talk about his past, and even if it weren’t for security reasons, he wouldn’t have another female in his bed. He went to them and left when he was ready, which was usually pretty damn fast. He could have set Becca up in her own room, but she was here in his bed and exactly where she belonged. He’d never felt so possessive and hungry for a woman in his life.

  But she wasn’t his Lifebond. She was supposed to be his Lifebond. He knew it clear to his soul. He should have saved her, made her his—loved her. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, tormented. He’d actually started to convince himself the coincidence of them coming back together was about fate, destiny, crazy shit like that, things he’d never believed in, but wanted to with Becca. Maybe he couldn’t Lifebond. Maybe that was one of those GTECH abilities he didn’t possess. That would make him her worst nightmare, a Lifebond who couldn’t really Lifebond.

  On that sour note, he forced his attention back to the computer screen and was considering hacking the Empire Resort’s computer, since Nebula was attached to that facility, when his cell phone rang from where
it rested on the nightstand. Becca stirred beside him as he snatched it and looked at caller ID. Kelly.

  Sterling answered. “What’s up, Doc?”

  “I need to talk to Becca,” she said. “And Caleb said for you to meet him in the Cityscape room in twenty minutes.” Cityscape was the room in Neon where they’d covered the walls with maps of every street, tunnel, and sewer in Vegas and the outlying areas.

  “Morning to you too,” he said and held the phone out to Becca. “Kelly wants to talk to you.”

  Her eyes went wide. He laughed and covered the phone. Damn she was cute. “She can’t tell you’re in bed with me from the sound of your voice.”

  Her cheeks turned rosy, and she sat up straighter, shoving hair behind her delicate little earlobes. “Right.”

  Sterling put the phone back to his ear. “She’ll call you in ten minutes.”

  His gaze traveled over Becca. She looked sexy as hell in a slinky white tank that cut narrowly down the sides of her breasts, exposing the lush curves. “Make that twenty minutes.”

  Kelly made a frustrated sound. “Tell her the dead guy’s tox report came back with some weird readings I haven’t seen before. I’m trying to get a hold of the army’s scientific team to see if this is an anomaly or a match with the other ICE victims. Not that I think they’ll be straight with me, but I plan to leverage the findings—to trade information.”

  Anomaly. He was all about one big, fucking anomaly today. But there was one consistency. He wanted Becca so bad it hurt.

  “Good plan,” he said. “I’ll tell her.” He snapped the phone shut.

  “Tell me what?” Becca asked.

  Sterling eased her down onto the mattress, his lips hovering above hers. “That you’re beautiful when you wake up.”

  “She didn’t say that,” Becca said, arms sliding around his neck a moment before his lips brushed hers. She sighed. “But you can tell me later.”

  ***

  Sterling walked into the Cityscape meeting room inside Neon, a no-frills ops room unlike the high-tech monster of a setup the Renegades sported in Sunrise City. Paper maps covered one main wall with an electronic monitor nestled in the center.

  A large round conference table capable of seating ten sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room, with three men sitting around it. Caleb, Michael, and Sterling grimaced at the third—Damion.

  “You’re like a mole that keeps growing back,” Sterling said, claiming the seat next to Caleb. “Or just a mole—period.”

  “This mole,” Damion said, indicating the notebook computer in front of him, “is trying to hack into Nebula’s computer and find out how they’re managing their distribution.”

  “Already tried,” Sterling said. “Their system is down. Interesting you happen to be messing around in their site right when it went down. For all I know, you did it.”

  Damion slid the computer across the desk. “Backtrack me, asshole. Set your mind at ease.”

  “Let’s focus on the two points that brought us here, why don’t we?” Caleb said irritably. Sterling and Damion glared at one another, and Damion jerked his computer back in front of him.

  Seemingly satisfied no further conflict would ensue, Caleb continued. “Point one. We can’t even think about eliminating or isolating the source of ICE, meaning Adam’s son, if we don’t have a better understanding of what is killing people. That means we don’t wait until they die. Kelly wants active ICE addicts to study, and we’re going to give them to her and quickly. While trying to find an antidote or an immunization, the general consensus is that producing one and ensuring it’s safe in a short timeline is nearly impossible, which brings me to point two. How Becca can help us. The best thing she’s done up to this point is to tell us that the source for creating ICE is Dorian. Deal with Dorian, and we deal with this problem.”

  “And Becca can give us Dorian,” Michael said, breaking his silence with words that cut like fire through ICE.

  Sterling’s gaze shot to Michael. “How would she do that?”

  “Dorian left Zodius City and came after her,” Michael said in that cold tone he did so well. “Adam knows Becca is powerful, so he brought out his most powerful weapon, no matter how risky that move, to hunt her down and kill her. She’s the bait, and we need to get Dorian out of Zodius City again and into the open where we can capture him.”

  “Forget it,” Sterling said, ready to come out his chair and put a choke hold on Michael. “He’ll kill her.”

  “She’s powerful,” Caleb reiterated. “With a little practice and you and me by her side, she can face Dorian without risk.”

  “We can’t even allow her around our men,” Sterling said, red-hot rage rolling inside him. “I can’t believe you’re saying this, Caleb, that you want to risk an innocent woman’s life. I never thought I’d see that day.”

  “I’m protecting this city and quite possibly our world,” Caleb reminded him. “Leaders lead, and we make tough choices. We need her help. And if you weren’t so personally involved, you’d see that. I wouldn’t ask this of her, if I didn’t feel there’s no other answer. We’re desperate here. And we’ll protect her.”

  “And we’ve done such a good job of that so far,” Sterling half-growled. “This isn’t the answer. There will be another Dorian, another child of Lifebonds. And that child might well have the same DNA. We need that immunization, and she thinks she has an idea for creating it.”

  “Exactly why we’re going to capture, not kill, Dorian,” Caleb explained calmly. “Our scientific team will then have his DNA to study. We’ll take Becca out in public. She’ll let her shield down and lure Dorian into the city.”

  Sterling pushed to his feet, fingers pressed to the table. He wanted the hell out of here. “What part of no do you not understand?”

  His cell phone rang, and he yanked it off his belt, his glare lingering on Caleb a moment before he glanced at the ID, which read “unknown.” He flipped it open, in case it was Marcus, and said hello.

  “Hello there, Sterling, sweetheart,” came a feminine voice.

  Sterling frowned. “Who is this?”

  “Who I am is not as important as what I am.”

  “Which is what?” he asked, punching his speaker button, instinct telling him this call was important.

  “You could call me the Madame of the ICE dealers,” she purred.

  Sterling reclaimed his seat, his gaze settling on Caleb. “Do I call you Madame?” he asked. “Or do you actually have a name?”

  “It’s Madame to you,” she said. “At least for now. And I can tell I’m on speakerphone. How many of those hot Renegade friends of yours are in the room? And can I pick one to rescue me when Iceman tries to kill me for helping you? I’d say you, Sterling, but everyone knows you have your hand up the skirt of that chick, Rebecca Burns.”

  “You haven’t helped us yet,” Michael said. “So don’t count on being saved. Who is Iceman?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, ignoring the question. “I like the rough types. I pick you, whoever you are, to save me.” She laughed. “Then again, if you don’t even know the name of the man in charge, you might be the one who needs saving. If you want to shut down ICE distribution, I’m the ticket to success.”

  “And why exactly,” Sterling asked, “would you help us?

  “Revenge,” she said with no hesitation. “I was loyal to Iceman. He has not been loyal to me. Nor has he been loyal to Adam. He’s been selling his own cocktail of enhanced ICE. It’s not only giving him his own cash flow, he’s creating what he calls Eclipsers, followers who he plans to use to stand against Adam when the time is right.”

  Sterling and the rest of the Renegades went stone-cold still, a collective flash of shared glances colliding around the table—war with their own government, war with Adam, and now war with the Eclipsers.

  “Eerily quiet there, boys,” Madame said. “Guess I got your attention.”

  “What is it you think you can do for us?” Caleb asked. “What are you offer
ing?”

  “Depends,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “Caleb,” he said.

  “As in Adam’s brother?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Good,” she said softly. “I assumed when Sterling didn’t deny he was a Renegade, it was true, but confirmation is always preferred. And I’m of the belief that it’s going to take one brother to fight the other. So here’s the deal, Renegade leader. I can give you the ICE distribution center, the dealers, and a list of users. In exchange I want protection from the Trackers and a safe shelter to include immunity. I don’t go behind bars.”

  Caleb shook his head no.

  “Fine,” Sterling said, eyeing Caleb defiantly. “You can have what you want. So how does this go down?”

  “Oh no,” Madame said. “Everyone knows Caleb’s word is gold. I want to hear a promise from him.”

  Sterling, Michael, and Damion all stared at Caleb expectantly. Sometimes their leader was a little too much the golden good guy. Almost as if he needed to defy a connection to his brother by being something so extremely opposite, even when it wasn’t the best choice.

  “I won’t give you immunity,” Caleb said, “but I will give you protection.”

  Sterling balled his fist and came an inch from pounding the table. Madame was offering them the chance to slow down Adam, a chance they needed.

  “Not even if I tell you that ICE didn’t kill those users who died?” she said. “It was the cocktail Iceman created. The one he just started pumping onto the streets in high volume a couple of days ago. And you can stop him with my help. I’ll call back in a few days when the body count gets higher.” She hung up.

  Silence filled the room, expanding with tension, until Michael said, “Becca can help us end this.”

  “She’ll die, and Dorian will get away,” Sterling said. “That solves nothing.”

  “Which is why I won’t allow her to risk her life unless I feel she has adequate control over her abilities, enough to protect herself,” Caleb said. “But I have to work with her to evaluate that. You know me, Sterling. You know I wouldn’t throw her to the lions.” He hesitated and added, “But she deserves the right to choose for herself.”